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“Come back to me, Ari!” I sobbed. “Gods, come back.”
Chapter27
The Golden King
“Missed me, have you?”I sneered at Davorin.
Snide words couldn’t be helped. Inside, my pulse pounded between my ears, drowning out the sound. Outwardly, I’d learned well how to school my features into indifference, how to play my words as though I was mildly discomfited.
The unsettling truth was if Davorin had burned Saga’s tale, it meant he’d been close to her. His damn hands had been on her. He might’ve hurt her.
Whatever he’d done, I wanted him dead for it.
“That tale did not belong to you.”
He laughed. “Ah, but she does. In fact, as we speak, she has been returned to where she belongs. On her back, legs open, a chain around that beautiful throat.”
He was lying. I had to believe it. I had to use his words to act, not falter.
For the first time since the day my family burned, I hated more than I feared what damage I might cause to those I loved most. For what he’d done to Saga, more than I wanted to shield her from the curse that followed me, I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to crush his bones, one by one, slice his skin in shallow gashes, then bathe him in hot oil.
Then, when I finished, I’d hand him to my wife.
It would be her honor to take his life.
“You have occupied my thoughts for a great many turns, the fated Golden King. I’ll never forget when I first heard that name.”
“From anyone else I’d be flattered to know I lived thoroughly in their every thought. From you, it makes me want to scrape it out of your skull by hand.”
Davorin wasted no time before he lunged.
Our bodies collided like a desperate embrace. My weight held more power, and landed me over Davorin’s form. It wasn’t a victory, not against a man such as him. The battle lord was fierce with blades and hands.
Davorin maneuvered his leg around mine and flipped me to the side. One fist cracked against my cheek, splitting the skin.
Somewhere in the grass he rummaged up a stone. Davorin struck at me with the sharp edges. I rammed a knee into his ribs, once, twice, until he wheezed a breath and pulled back. We both staggered to our feet, gasping and seething at the other.
We rose at odds, crouched, with Davorin tossing the stone between his palms.
“Stop fighting, Awakener. You won’t win.”
“Does that actually work?” My lip curled. “Have you ever met someone on the battlefield who simply gave up because you asked?”
“The wise ones.”
“Ah. I’ve never pretended to be wise.”
We rushed each other again. Davorin had the stone aimed for my head. I ducked, landing on my knees. In one swift motion, I turned and grabbed him around the thighs. Davorin fell face down with a curse and a grunt.
I fisted a handful of his hair, then slammed his face into the dirt. All I saw was the wreckage of Saga’s world. The fresh scars on her skin. The loss of all she loved at the hands of this fiend.
I slammed his face again.
With a cry of fury, Davorin bucked his hips, tossing me off balance. Dark soil and blood dripped into his eyes from the layers of skin I’d peeled off his forehead. He rolled onto his back and kicked.
Gods damn the hells. The heel of his boot jabbed the tip of my rib. I could feel the snap of at least two. I doubled over. Foolish. I’d bring shame to the Ettan army if Stieg, or Frey, or Halvar, witnessed my fatal show of weakness.
In my pause, Davorin pinned me. One hand curled around my throat and squeezed. In the other, he took the stone to the tattoo on my neck, and carved along the lines, aiming for my chest.
